


It Can All Change Like That

by wildglitterwolf



Series: Sunday Boy [3]
Category: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)
Genre: Loneliness, M/M, Post-Break Up, Post-Canon, Still not over each other, Stubborn Idiots, wandering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22244623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildglitterwolf/pseuds/wildglitterwolf
Summary: What Cliff was up to that first year after leaving Rick’s side after the hippie attack.
Relationships: Cliff Booth/Rick Dalton
Series: Sunday Boy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594867
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	It Can All Change Like That

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely a companion piece to ‘Sunday Boy’ and last part of this series so the ending might not hit hard without reading that first. Or it could, who knows.

For the average person, being attacked by intruders and stabbed in the hip is not something one would consider a blessing in disguise. But for Cliff Booth, he thought it was maybe a wild answer to his prayers. The 13 hours cramped in coach on the flight back from Italy felt like a slow walk down the green mile before Rick officially cuts his lifeline, and when you have 13 hours alone to think about how absolutely fucked you are, you start getting desperate ideas. So as Cliff lied there in the hospital bed as the acid finally wore off, he thought something this fantastical could only have been the result of some higher being on his side for once in his life.

But the next morning when Rick came to visit him as promised with the bagels that were requested, he still insisted that the arrangement discussed in Italy was still in play. Of course Rick offered to pay the hospital bill as his way of thanks and send him off with enough cash to get through a couple months, but Cliff couldn’t help but feel he deserved more.

“Thanks, man. I mean, I shouldn’t feel ungrateful but I’d have thought you’d be a little more insistent to the wife on keeping me around after all that is all.”

“Our recent history is why you can’t stay around, you know that. Besides, I-I-I’m about to get my ass bombarded by the f-fucking press wanting to know what happened. Best if you ain’t around for that; you get named and of course everyone we fucking know is gonna say that is your normal behavior.”

“So you gonna tell them you did all of it?” Cliff was used to doing all the dirty work to make Rick look good, but he had to admit it felt much different when the ‘stunt’ is an impromptu life or death situation. Not that he wanted fame from this incident; Rick could have all he wants.

“Can’t. You already made your statement to the police. Will just say it’s friend, and leave out the stuntman part.”

Well of course it wasn’t that easy as an event of this magnitude isn’t going to be left unexplored. It was less than a day before the papers were already at the hospital inquiring about the friend who helped save his buddy and his wife. Cliff was bored as fuck and decided to humor them since Rick had already left by then and wasn’t around to stop him.

“Why risk my life for him? He’s more than a brother, man. Hell, if he was a woman we would have had a wonderful marriage.”

“We just got back from Italy after six months together shooting some stuff for y’all to see over the next year. I was there when he met his wife. She’s fine, isn’t she?”

“My wife? Alright, I think that’s enough questions for today.”

The next morning, Cliff woke up to a hard whack from the newspaper Rick brought and an onslaught of cursing. He knew instantly what that was for.

—-

A few days later, Cliff got discharged with surprisingly only a future scar as evidence anyway had happened. Luckily for him, Rick appeared to had forgotten about the newspaper interview and greeted him in the waiting room with the biggest hug.

“So glad you’re alright. N-no limp, right?”

Cliff smiles and pulls away from his embrace and pats him on the back. “Nope. I’d say good as new but I’d need to take off a few decades for the new part.”

“Well I called a taxi so let’s get the fuck outta here.”

The ride back was spent with Rick recapping the whole hippie attack for the driver who recognized him from the news. Cliff leaned his head against the window as he watched Rick excitedly tell his version of the events which he only just realized he hasn’t heard yet. Rick starts with going out to tell them to fuck off their private road only to have his pool time interrupted as one came crashing through the door. And then there was the grande finale with the flamethrower. Cliff couldn’t believe this dumb story was breaking his heart all over again; he was gonna miss these moments with Rick.

The ride home didn’t feel long enough as the moment Cliff had been dreading drew closer and closer with each passing second. He got a small relief from the dread when he was greeted by Brandy toppling him over, a behavior he usually kept in check but allowed this one time; at least someone didn’t want to leave his side.

“Francesca, honey? You mind giving me and Cliff a moment alone? Just to say goodbye.” Of course everything Francesca saw in Italy gave her little reason to trust this was anything like a normal goodbye between friends, but if it meant Cliff finally getting out of their lives, she obliged.

Rick watched her go and waited until he heard the click of the bedroom door. “Cliff, I-“

“No. We already did this in Italy. We don’t need to say goodbye like that again. Let’s just say goodbye as friends, alright?”

“I… I don’t know if I can. We can’t go back to just being friends, no matter how I try.”

“Well hopefully one day we can.” But Cliff knew he wouldn’t be able to either.

“Oh, here. Before I forget,” Rick mumbles as he goes to a cabinet drawer and pulls out an envelope of cash. “That’s about two months of usual pay, that’s about all I can spare. Just hope it’s enough for you to get by while finding employment elsewhere.”

“Thanks. Hope I can.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Neither of them were quite sure how to end this, so Cliff just starts packing up all the last remaining evidence that he’s ever existed in this house while Rick goes behind the bar and starts making himself a drink as he pretends to not watch. Once the car is loaded with all but Brandy, Cliff knows it’s finally time.

“Well I best be getting out of your hair- Rick?” It didn’t take long until he saw him floating out in his pool chair despite the fact he wasn’t even dressed appropriately for it. So this is how he wanted to go out; Cliff could take the hint. “Come on, Brandy. We better go.”

—-

Cliff sat in his chair after dinner one late September Tuesday thumbing through the TV guide. It was that time of the year for fall television premieres and despite not having spoken to Rick in over a month, he was still going to be a supportive friend. Not supportive enough to where he was going to call Rick up and ask if they want to watch together, but he figured if Rick really wanted him there, he’d call.

“ _Lancer_. CBS. 7:30pm.” Cliff checks his watch and sees it’s ten past six. Sighing, he looks over at the phone as if to will it to ring as there wasn’t much time left if he were to make it to Rick’s in time. Or he could always just go over and surprise him. “Nah.”

And as soon as the show started, Cliff regretted not doing so. Rick looked ridiculous with that mustache and what he would give to jest with him about it, and Brandy sure wouldn’t appreciate any of his quips.

“Whaddya say, sweetheart? Think Francesca is as good company as I am when watching his shit? Hope she’s not too brutally honest or she’ll make him cry.” Brandy just looks at him from the couch and yawns. Well, at least his company was pleasant. Still, even after the show ended, Cliff debated on if he should give Rick a ring even if it was to just say that he watched it and what a good job he did. But no, that’s Francesca’s job now.

And yet, Cliff spent the next two hours quietly reading by the phone just in case Rick decided to call, not knowing that at that moment Rick was doing the exact same thing except with more drinking and crying. Cliff’s instinct about Francesca being too honest was apparently spot on after all.

—-

Two days later was when Cliff decided it was time to pack it all up. If both of them were going to be too stubborn to reach out to the other, then why the hell stay around here and watch the money waste away. This town isn't going to hire him so best be making his way where they don’t know the name of Cliff Booth, wife killer. Hippie killer. Goddamn queer the way he hung around the guy he stunted for. Too many damn reasons not to hire him.

He sold off his weights and bench since he definitely wouldn’t be stunting outside of this city and there was little to no reason to keep this physique. The bike was a lot harder to part with but it would just be extra weight and he rarely rode it much anymore anyways. But as of right now he could fit everything he owns in the trailer and be off on his merry way.

Cliff let the property manager know that he was leaving most likely for good, and if the off chance anyone came looking for him to say they didn’t know where he was. However, if some asshole named Rick Dalton does come around then let him know once he gives him a new number to reach him by.

By the early morning hours on the first of October, Cliff pulled out of the backlot of the drive-in with his trailer in tow, Brandy in shotgun, and absolutely no idea what lay ahead of him. Dawn finally cracked once he passed the Grapevine and continued on the I-5 north. He could drive it all the way up to Seattle or into Canada if he so desired, but he had been spoiled by the sun for so long the idea of constant rain was not ideal for someone still healing from a break-up. It still felt weird to call it that, but it is what it is.

The first week was spent bouncing between rest areas and small towns along the interstate. The days involved driving around looking for any help wanted signs or reading the classifieds of whatever place he came across. Afterwards, since he didn’t want to waste what little he had on a motel, he’d spend the night and whatever rest stop was closest, even if it meant backtracking.

His new morning ritual included feeding Brandy right before dawn, and while she was preoccupied with eating, he’d slip up on top of the trailer with a lawn chair and watch the sunrise over the valley. The cars and trucks making their journey down the interstate was a calming soundtrack for him as their bright lights began to dim as the sun peaked its head over the far distance hills. It was at this time Cliff felt the most peace with himself right before another day that would probably once again be filled with rejection. Now he understood why Rick took it hard with every ‘no’ he heard; you can hear that word only so many times before it starts to eat away at your soul until it numbs you.

Of course, Cliff has been through this bumming around life before after the war right before he came out west. But he was still young enough and inexperienced in certain areas of living then, not to mention the numerous times he came close to death, that drifting without a home didn’t weigh much on him. But now that damn cliche of ‘home is where your heart is’ rang true; his heart finally found a home after all these years and now it was truly homeless.

Cliff finally made his way to Sacramento where he knew almost instantly it wasn’t going to work out. Too political for his liking. He had all but forgotten there was a war going on but the protesters he ran into gathered outside the state capital brought that reality back. The locals he did speak to said this place was nowhere near as bad as Berkeley and the rest of the Bay Area and most of these hippies probably bussed in from there anyways. Still, that pretty much gave Cliff the idea that there probably wasn't anything for him any further north unless he wanted to join the hippie culture. He was sure Rick would just love that. _Look what you did to me, man. You drove me to this. Do us both a favor and get your flamethrower and put me out of my misery._

But before he left town, Cliff had an itch he needed satisfied. He noticed the past couple nights the same street walkers waiting under the dim lights trying to tempt any lonely soul such as himself. The passing thought of maybe he himself should just resort to hustling as a last resort, but who the fuck would want his old carcass?

Perhaps he didn’t realize how expensive sex would be when he woke up in the motel the next morning down half his remaining money and still had that fucking itch. The blonde he picked up wasn’t a bad fuck by any means, but apparently he had matured enough to realize he got more satisfaction from an emotional connection than a physical one. He would probably have been better off just paying her to listen to him talk, or even let her unload on him what was probably a shit existence as well. Listening was his thing and it didn’t help that his only constant companion couldn’t talk.

So now he continued his loop of the San Joaquin Valley down Highway 99 with a far tighter budget and self-acceptance of his loneliness. He made sure Brandy and the car got fuel before he did, letting himself go as long as he could before it got unbearable before eating whatever cheap unhealthy crap he could afford. Sometimes he was tempted to just split a can with Brandy while she had the good stuff before he knew he’d have to downgrade her brand as well just to save a few bucks.

In Fresno while snooping around a community center for any sort of work, he saw a listing for a veterans support meeting that evening. _Refreshments Served._ Cliff could hear his stomach growl just reading it, but hey. Free food. Human connections. He’ll play the veteran card just to get a taste of both.

And that’s where he met Tom, an almond farmer who fought in the Pacific and the leader of the group discussion. Cliff was given the floor first since he was the only new face tonight, and even Cliff wasn’t expecting to talk as much as he did. The difficulty of trying to readjust to life after the war, trying to become a normal fucking _human_ again after years of only trying to kill people. Rick never understood that feeling. Fuck, no one did. But here there were people who went through the same shit as him and he suddenly felt a lot less lonely.

Cliff talked to Tom afterwards and explain his current situation, asking if there was any place he knew was hiring or just some place in town he could set his trailer down for the night. That’s when Tom offered a spot on his own property in exchange for some help on the farm. Anything for a fellow veteran was his reasoning, and Cliff was not going to be stubborn and turn this gift down.

The handyman and mechanical skills he had came in use as Tom gave him more or less the same tasks Rick would supply him. Cliff even offered to run their errands in town so he and the wife could spend more time with the grandkids. And it just happened to be one Sunday on an errand run when he drove by the movie theater and saw a familiar title up on the marquee.

“Well, shit. _Ringo_ is already out? I think I can spare a couple hours.” He was getting really good at talking to no one that it didn’t even seem out of place anymore.

Cliff parked the car, got his matinee ticket, and made himself at home in the back of the theater. A lot of the time he didn’t know what he was filming exactly until he sees it on screen, but he felt a lot closer to these Italian projects since he helped Rick with memorizing lines. He played just about every character Rick’s guy interacted with, his personal favorites being the ladies as it usually gave him an excuse to extend the scene beyond what was on the page with a little seductive improv. He knew it annoyed Rick when he was trying to take it seriously, but never got a complaint afterwards, not one damn time.

There was a queasy feeling in him as he meditated on those moments during the trailers that he would be overwhelmed with everything that happened overseas. And when that face he hasn’t seen and voice he hasn’t heard in what felt like an eternity appeared on the screen for the first time, all that deep loneliness he thought was finally behind him came rushing back hard enough that he felt he was suffocating. He knew these lines; different delivery without being impared by drink but he knew them all the same. And a different setting, of course, than the apartment bedroom most rehearsals took place.

Cliff didn’t try to hide his face when the lights came up. He didn’t care if people wondered what the hell they just witnessed that would move a man to stare with red, dead eyes at the screen with tear stains down his cheeks. They probably would just think the guy just must really fucking love westerns or something.

\---

“You’re seeing this again?”

“Hmm?”

“This is the third week in a row I’ve seen you here. The past three Sundays, seeing the same movie. Are you sure there isn’t anything else that would interest you?”

“I’m a paying customer, aren’t I? You’re still getting money no matter what I see.”

“Fair enough.”

Cliff felt a little bit bad for coming off like a jackass to the kid. I mean, it really wasn’t anyone's business but the guy was probably bored as this place wasn’t that particularly busy at the moment. “Look. If you must know, I’m in the movie. I’m Rick Dalton’s stunt double.”

“No shit, really?”

“Yeah.” Cliff pulls out his driver’s license to show him his name. “Look for me in the credits, I’m there.”

“Well shit, if I had known, I wouldn’t have asked. Guess you just like seeing yourself on screen or something, huh?”

“More just like being supportive of my fellow cast and crew,” Cliff says with his usual wide smile. “So how about that ticket?”

\---

Cliff had been in his new ‘home’ for nearly a year now. He kept his tradition of going to the movies every week when one of Rick’s was playing to the point that he started to pick up some maintenance jobs at the theater. This led to some other work of the sort around other businesses once he got enough of a good reputation going, and as long as he still had time for his usual duties on the farm, Tom was fine with it. And for once in who the fuck knows how long, the name Cliff Booth was being uttered around town without contempt behind it. It was truly fucking freeing.

Still, just because you work more hours than a human being should doesn’t mean you’re suddenly richer. Cliff was still dirt poor as Tom’s payment was still essentially just allowing him to exist on his property and the occasional home cook meal and the town jobs were hit and miss that sometimes he’d go a week without extra work. But he was still able to give Brandy the best damn dog food around, and as long as he could afford her that, he’d be alright.

The Sunday after Thanksgiving he took a day to himself to just lounge around the trailer as he was still recovering from holiday festivities and _Operazione Dyn-O-Mite!_ wouldn’t be out for another couple of weeks. He was dozing on the couch in the middle of reading whatever book it was Tom thought he’d like when the phone rang. That sound hadn’t gone off in who knows how long since if anyone wanted to get in touch with him they usually called Tom. But… could it really be this time?

“Hello? Rick?”

“Hey, Cliff. It’s not Rick but he did stop by the drive-in. You told me you wanted me to give you a ring if he ever came around and so here I am. He wanted to invite you to a movie premiere next week. Got a tux for you and everything if you want. Just stop by the place and I’ll give it to you.”

“You fucking better believe I’ll be there. What day?”

“Looks like… uh, next Saturday.”

“See you then.”

Cliff hung up the phone and couldn’t help that giddy school boy feeling he was getting. Rick hadn’t completely forgotten about him! He still wanted him in his life! Oh shit, was Francesca still in the picture? What if this was a… “Heh. Maybe this is a booty call. Nah. I’m just in over my head. Brandy! Guess who the hell I’m seeing next week?”

\---

Cliff didn’t get in until 2am that night after the premiere yet he was far from exhausted. Rick still clearly had feelings for him despite being apart for over a year and despite still being married. He couldn’t help that small glimmer of hope that maybe he could convince Rick to come back to him, bring him up here and show him how good of a life they could have together, away from all the noise of Hollywood. Maybe own their own ranch, ride horses everyday, go camping, fuck out in the woods, anything. Anything as long as it was with him.

“Oh, sweetheart. You’ve been starving all day, haven’t you?” Brandy nearly pounced on him and he gave her a pass on the whining since he was in such a good mood. “I don’t know why Tom is so afraid of you that he couldn’t do it but I’ll get right on it.”

Brandy couldn’t tell what had gotten into Cliff, whistling along as he prepared her dinner with a bounce in his step, but it was certainly the happiest she’s seen her master look in quite some time. But she also smelled a familiar scent on him that she tried to place and when she did, her tail wagged just as enthusiastically as Cliff was feeling.

\--

Cliff got into the habit of calling Rick more often just to poke him into getting that time off to come up and see him. He already made his dream list of activities he wanted them to do together if he came up this way even though realistically they would maybe only have time for one or two since Cliff wouldn’t be able to take a lot of time off if he suddenly picked up a lot of freelance.

Finally Rick called Cliff on his own to tell him the good news about his hiatus in April. They set their dates and lodging arrangements and all that jazz other than what exactly what they would be doing, but Cliff said he had a few surprises in store that he’d wait until Rick got there to share. After about an hour long conversation of just shooting the shit for the last half of it, Rick had to excuse himself before Francesca was starting to feel ignored. _Try over a year of it, lady, then get back to me._

“Rick’s coming. Rick’s coming, Brandy. You remember Rick, right?” Cliff could tell she knew as she wagged her tail and started climbing on him affectionately. “Damn. I know he said he wanted to stay at the hotel but hopefully we can convince him to stay here. Whaddaya say, girl? Mind if you let him share my bed for a few days?”

The joy Cliff was feeling was starting to control every impulsive thought and action he was making. So when he decided around ten at night that he suddenly needed to buy a new brand of cigarettes to have around for Rick because he knew he couldn’t stand his Red Apples, he up and went on his way to the store as Brandy watched the lights from his car disappear into the night through the window behind the couch.

Brandy waited in front of the door for an hour. Two hours. Three. Finally she fell asleep and woke hungry the next morning to a still empty trailer. She started pacing the length, her stomach growling and she started to whine. Cliff did this before to her a few months ago, leaving her alone all day without food. Was this going to be regular?

Finally late that afternoon as she was dozing on the couch, she heard the click of the door and got up to greet Cliff only to see it was that man who’s farm they lived on accompanied by two other men in uniform. But she was a well behaved girl and sat there patiently even as the two men pulled her along outside with a pole that lassoed around her neck and upped her into the back of truck. And even as the engine started and she felt them driving away, she still continued to be the best behaved girl. After all, that’s what Cliff would have been proud of.

**Author's Note:**

> I think writing that ending with Brandy broke me and I was not ready for it. But my first dog was named Brandy as well so I’m always gonna be a little more emotional about those good girls.


End file.
